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recession diet woes
For the past few hours I have been craving chocolate fudge brownies with truly astonishing ferocity. Don't worry, I'm not pregnant; I am placing all the blame on my friend K, who decided to spend some time describing her latest trip to a local dessert-and-wine bar in LOVING DETAIL. Damn her.
God, I want caaaaake. And a mocha. I am about ready to climb over the bodies of whimpering puppies and gnaw my way through cushions if it will get me a decent mocha. Especially if it's the Cherry Bomb or the Lizard Mocha from Mars Hill Cafe. (Hey, useful link, non-Aussies! It explains what a flat white is. LEARN. Er, most places do not sell coffee by the bucket; Mars Hill is Special like that.)
Instead I am munching on what I have, which is...a dried fruit bar and black tea.
THIS DIET SUCKS. SUCKS, I TELL YOU.
God, I want caaaaake. And a mocha. I am about ready to climb over the bodies of whimpering puppies and gnaw my way through cushions if it will get me a decent mocha. Especially if it's the Cherry Bomb or the Lizard Mocha from Mars Hill Cafe. (Hey, useful link, non-Aussies! It explains what a flat white is. LEARN. Er, most places do not sell coffee by the bucket; Mars Hill is Special like that.)
Instead I am munching on what I have, which is...a dried fruit bar and black tea.
THIS DIET SUCKS. SUCKS, I TELL YOU.